


Rumors

by horsechiffon



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Partially Clothed Sex, Vampires, female WoL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22710019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horsechiffon/pseuds/horsechiffon
Summary: The Lord Commander has been acting strangely, and Aulane wants to get to the bottom of it.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light
Comments: 5
Kudos: 54
Collections: Valentine's Fic Exchange 2020





	Rumors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SilentWonder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentWonder/gifts).



> For the Valentine's gift exchange for a discord I'm in. I hope everyone enjoys, but especially the intended recipient!

Aulane Vougaux had heard rumors. Rumors, like knighthood, faith, and wine were the lifeblood of the city. One could hardly walk ten fulms without encountering one or the other. 

But usually, the rumours were about the more mundane aspects of the lives of the beautiful bachelors and bachelorettes that held the city together with their tireless efforts. Or just their interesting little lives of debauchery that entertained the masses. 

The rumors always had a grain of truth here. They spiraled out into madness sometimes, but if she followed it back, she always found something. This one was different, however. It was more than a tale of a nobleman’s misdeeds and secrecy. Hilda was the one to tip her off about it, but had phrased it as a bit of absurdity. _The Lord Commander, Ser Handsome_ , she called him jokingly. _They say he’s become even more elusive lately. He won’t come out during the day. Some say it’s just his workload… But he’s turned down invitations to midday soirees. Very unusual for that particular pretty blue butterfly, don’t you think?_

Passing through the Forgotten Knight was a time-trusted method of gathering information, especially from Aymeric’s trusted men. Tataru had shown her that she could gain much from the loose-lipped ale-soaked knights. They trusted her after all, and never bristled when she came close. She was a friend here.

It took more than an hour to start hearing about this particular curiosity, however. She nursed an ale so slowly that it was warm by the time she reached halfway down, but clear headed and focused enough to insert herself into the conversation smoothly enough to not arouse suspicion.

Apparently, Ser Aymeric had not gone home in several weeks now, according to his knights. Or if he did, he managed to elude the Night Watch. But Aymeric would never tolerate such a lazy guard. They worried, but it was something he had done before when they were in the thickest heat of political turmoil. Though then, everyone knew where he was. He slept with his head in his arms at his desk, or occasionally on the bunk beds on the first floor of the congregation at Lucia and Handeloup’s behest.

But now, he would disappear for hours on end, and no one ever seemed to run into him. Except now, there was a development in this little story. A young knight, a man that she had remembered as a squire a couple years before spoke up. He was prettier than he was handsome, like most Elezen men his age, and he spoke with middling confidence.

“I saw him go to the dungeons. I was upstairs, on the balcony in bed, he must have not seen me. Everyone else was asleep at that late hour, but I have trouble sleeping away from home,” he said. Other knights nodded along, knowing that pain of adjustment. They were drunk enough to be vulnerable, to not tease him for wanting those comforts. Or perhaps they didn’t want to derail this very juicy story.

“Are you sure it was him?” asked another knight with ruddy cheeks and a full beard. His hair was prematurely thinning, she thought, but he had a handsome bone structure to offset it.

“Aye. I caught sight of those blue coat tails… I couldn’t help myself, so I followed him down. And it’s strange, because I don’t think we have anyone in the dungeons right now. Not after we freed all of the heretics. Er, you know what I mean.”

They did. The language here was slow to move, even if attitudes towards Dravanians had changed.

“Go on, boy,” the bearded man said, not wanting him to lose his thread over a stumble in terminology.

“Right, well. All the cells were open, right? Save for one. And I don’t know when he got there, or where he came from, but Lord Edmont was there, in the hall! And I couldn’t hear what he had to say, I was too far away… But it had to be him! The coat, the cane… And who else would conspire with our Lord Commander? He said something through the peep door before he closed it and set the lock. I hid in an empty cell, quiet as a mouse… And then he left. My heart was about to pound right out of my chest, I didn’t dare go look at the cell! I was terrified!”

The bearded man tilted his head, clear confusion and irritation on his face. “But I saw him in his office this evening, before I left!”

“I know!” cried the pretty one. “That is why this is so queer! But that must be where he goes. But the question is… why?”

The knights stood back up straight, sipping their drinks and murmuring their ideas to one another. She just knew that she had to go look, and that was that. She left her half-drunk ale on the counter and headed out. She knew that at this hour, it would be odd to see her there, but not entirely unheard of. The Warrior of Light never slept and never got cold, according to rumor. In fact, she did get cold, albeit not easily. The short skirt in the harsh weather spoke to that.

She entered the Congregation of the Knights Most Heavenly easily, and no one even paid her mind as she descended into the defunct dungeon. 

It was as the pretty Elezen man said, they were all open and unlit, save for one far down the hall. Her pulse began to pick up as she continued on, her footfalls echoing.

She stopped in front of the door, about to open it when a familiar voice rang out, startling her. 

“Leave this place at once!” he bellowed to whomever stood on the other side. 

She stared at the door for a moment, chewing her lip, deliberating. What could be the meaning of this? Well, there was only one way to find out-- She opened the bolt on the door expectantly as that familiar voice began to plead.

“No, no! You must leave this place!” he cried as she pushed the door, too curious now to pull back.

There were secrets upon secrets in these winding dungeons she knew. She was prepared for horror or death, but found herself feeling strangely winded by the sight before her. Behind the heavy creaking door was a room I’ll-befitting of the damp corridor she arrived from.

Soft light emanated from jars of captured sprites, floating both peacefully and mindlessly about. To prevent an accident with fire, perhaps? There was a rug on the floor of the cell, padding the cold, hard stone. Where a meager cot ordinarily was, there was instead a single bed, dressed with sheets and blankets from a much larger bed. He must have brought them from home, she thought. A small desk, still too large for such a small cell, was placed against the bed.

And in the middle of it all sat Ser Aymeric on the bed, already getting up from the desk. He was dressed in a simple white shirt and deep blue breeches. His face was painted with worry as he halted his approach.

“It is not safe here, you must go,” he said, his voice quieter and calmer as he saw who had dared open his cell. 

Aulane shook her head, stepping into the cell and closing the door behind her. For privacy, she supposed, though there was no one out there. “What is going on, Ser Aymeric?”

“Oh, how I wish I could be happy to see you, friend. But there is naught but sorrow and misfortune. For us both, if you stay here,” he said, his blue eyes shining oddly in the dark.

“Stop, I can’t handle the mystery of this. I’m here to help you, I was afraid for you… Just tell me what has happened.”

He regards her for a moment as he turns away. “I was attacked by a monster one night nearly a moon ago. I was found by my manservant, thankfully,” he said, his eyes cast down, his fists clenched tight. “It left me cursed.”

She tilts her head, stepping forward to close the distance.

“Wait! No closer, please. The nature of the curse… It pushes me to drink blood, and it is so hard to resist. Pray leave,” he said, fists trembling as he fought himself.

Aulane, ever the carer, ever the practical woman, spoke at once. “Will it hurt me? Aside from losing the blood…”

Aymeric’s eyes snapped up from the carpet to lock eyes with her. He hadn’t allowed himself to look at her since she entered the room, not really. But now, he regarded her. She was an exemplary creature, a beauty unto herself. Her skin was lightly tanned from all of her adventures, her hair long and braided in fat coils, falling between her shoulder blades. Her features were strong and unique, betraying that her lineage did not lay in Ishgard. 

“Don’t you understand?” he said as he crossed his arms tight across his chest. “The curse is passed from one to another.”

She simply stepped forward, and he tried to step back. His legs hit the bed and he landed on his rear. She reached forward, pressing his lip up to examine his teeth.

“As I thought,” she said. “You’re a vampire now.”

“I’m..” he seemed baffled by every part of this. “You know what I am?”

She nodded, regarding him with mild pity as he trembled.

“How do I cure it?” he asked, hope renewed.

She pulled her lips into her mouth and his heart sank. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I can teach you what I have learned in my travels, at least. You can drink from me. I won’t die. Whoever attacked you must have been a lot less judicious.”

Aymeric’s hands flexed. She was so near that he could smell her. He thought he could hear her pulse, and the excitement of it sickened him.

“What if I do the same to you?” he asked.

“You won’t,” she said, sitting next to him. She pushed a lock of hair from his face as he gazed at her, unconvinced. “You must be so hungry. You look unwell. Have you been starving yourself?”

He nodded dumbly as he folded his hands together. He felt like if he opened his mouth, it would be immediately to feed upon her. She glanced at his hands as she set one atop his. 

“Still! It is far too inappropriate for me to place my lips on you as if we were lovers,” he said as his willpower continued to degrade.

Now… That was an idea. Her lips curled into a smile as she leaned towards him. “Perhaps, then, I should put my lips on you first. Would that make you feel better?”

Ser Aymeric’s eyebrows raised as her face came in towards his. He closed his eyes against the torrent of emotion. His thoughts were already so muddled, he was hungry and sad and…And her lips were pressed to his. He opened his eyes again, feeling a little stupid to need visual confirmation on this. He moved to speak, and she placed her tongue in his mouth, silencing him. She opened her eyes slowly as he looked at her dumbfounded.

“Is that alright with you?” she tried again.

He nodded, eyes wide as he looked down at her. She unclasped her bodice, smiling as he seemed to stuff the panic down. 

“Somewhere discreet to bite, not too close to a major vein…” she said as she continued to undress, and Aymeric was unable to pull his eyes from her form. She cut a beautiful form in the glowing light as she exposed her breasts to him. She was heavier in the chest than the typical Ishgardian, but she was a little meatier, too. Maybe that’s why she didn’t get cold so easily, he thought as she pulled him down on top of her in the bed. 

She took him by the back of the head, guiding him down against her soft flesh. That demon in his mind that crowed at him to feed overtook his thoughts as she pressed his mouth against her breast. He bit instinctively, eyes fluttering shut as it began to trickle into his parched mouth. He withdrew his fangs to feed, drinking from the wound above her nipple. 

She continued to hold his head as he drank, looking better by the second. She ran her fingers through his hair, watching him, thinking about him. She had always been fond of the Lord Commander, he was easier on the eyes than most others. He’d always been kind to her, too. But most importantly…

“This is not so bad or strange for you, is it?” she asked, rubbing her hand against his scalp. He looked up at her, breaking contact as blood began to run down her breast.

“Drinking your blood? I admit my feelings are mixed-” he started.

“No, being in bed with me. I have to admit to you… That I’ve wanted this for a while. Not the blood drinking, per se,” she clarified. He smiled at her as he licked the trail of blood up her chest like it was chocolate syrup.

“Ever to make the best of an unfortunate situation, however,” he said as he began to calm the monster inside of him. He licked her wound, eyeing it as he realized that he was now sated, but she was still bleeding.

“Oh dear.” He pulled off his shirt without a second thought, bundling it and pressing it to her wound.  
“Your saliva keeps the blood from sticking,” she informed him. “But it should clot soon.” She enjoyed the relief on his face. Almost as much as the sight of his bare chest. On her back she happily admired his broad shoulders and taut muscles. She boldly placed a hand on his abdomen, stroking downward. 

“Oh, ah-” Aymeric started, a blush finally able to rise to his cheeks. This was all moving so fast, and he was happy to receive her, but he hadn’t imagined that between them that she would be taking the lead. But was that so bad?

He leaned in, about to kiss her before he thought twice about it. Certainly, she wouldn’t want to taste-- 

Aymeric was learning a lot about her tonight, he found, as she led them in a passionate kiss. He keened against her mouth as she found his stiffening cock and gave it a squeeze. He gasped, pulling away and opening his eyes just in time to watch her tug her small clothes free from beneath her skirt. He helped her pull them off of her long legs and discarded them off the edge of the bed. 

“Come now, Ser,” she said teasingly as she parted her legs. He let out a shuddering breath as he pulled the clasps open and tugged his trousers down. It seemed they were going right to the main event. And hadn’t she earned it? He pulled her in with his legs, and Aymeric was unsure if he should be awed more by how lovely she looked like this or how absolutely powerful her leg muscles were.

He lifted her hips slightly to line up with her entrance before she pulled him forward, spearing herself on his thick member. It was her turn to gasp and moan. She knew it was large as she felt it through the cloth, but this sensation was magnificent. She chided herself for waiting until now to make her move. 

He rocked his hips against her, and the bed tapped rhythmically against the cell wall. He hoped that no one above would hear, but then again, he knew how far below the surface they were and how thick the walls were. He decided to stop worrying for the rest of the night, Aulane clearly had this all under control. 

She licked her index and middle fingers, slipping them between the hot rut of their bodies to touch herself. He moaned low as her free hand tangled into his hair. He pressed his lips to her neck, and she tightened hard around him, making him bury his face against her neck as he desperately tried to hold on. It had been such a long time, after all.

“Go on, let yourself,” she said, the hand moving from his hair to join its sister at her clit. She pulled the skin taut as she rubbed herself, feeling her climax building low in her belly. 

He moaned her name as his muscles locked his hips forward, his orgasm rippling over him as he gripped the bed beneath her. She fell over the edge, too, watching his beautiful face take on such an intimate expression. She closed her eyes against the force of her own orgasm, her legs tightening against him, rendering him immobile.

For several seconds, they could only draw breath and look at one another. He pulled himself out of her and laid next to her, close on the small bed. He held her close and felt at peace for the first time in weeks. The Warrior of Light, constantly pushing and pressing herself found sleep beginning to drag her under, and she was too content to fight it.

Bells later, they would wake to the hurried slamming of the cell door and the brisk, retreating footfalls of someone walking with a cane.


End file.
